Letters
by Screamofthebutterfly24
Summary: Tony's pov when he's in jail. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned 24 would I be sitting here writing fan fictions?

Thanks for the great reviews on my last 24 story! O and thanks to chezlovesyou, you kinda got me started on this idea. I was thinking of maybe doing some more chapters to this one, if you guys want me to, but I want to finish my Titanic "Ship of Dreams" first please go read and review it!

…

…

…

He never told her. Never told her how he wanted to just sweep her up in his arms and kiss her forever. Never told her how much he loved the way her eyes shone when she laughed. Never told her that it didn't matter if she couldn't do everything, that she was perfect in his eyes. He never told her how much he loved her.

The emptiness he felt in his cell couldn't compare to the emptiness that was in his heart where Michelle had been. The iron bars stared at him with cruel, cold eyes. No! he wouldn't do this to himself. He saved her life. She was still breathing, smiling and laughing because of him. But was she enjoying it with another man?

The chilling image that had played through his mind so many times played again. There she was, a knife held just centimeters from her beautiful face. He could hear Saunder's voice in his head, "If you want your wife back in good condition you'll do as I say." He remembered that moment perfectly, the way his stomach had dropped onto the floor, how the sudden terror had spread across his heart at the thought of never seeing her again.

He could feel her lips on his, the last kiss they ever had before he was taken into custody. He could still see the tears on her eyes. "Tony don't talk like this. I can't--- I won't give up on you! I can't---." She had said. Would she stay true to her promise? Just the thought of life without her made it hard to breathe. Tony lay down on the coarse bed of his cell looking up at the dull gray ceiling. Slowly a letter formed in his head, a letter that he would never be able to send, a letter that he could tell her everything he ever wanted to.

_Sweetheart-_

_I'm sorry. Sorry for everything, sorry for ignoring you on our last day, sorry for all the little fights we ever had. Every time I close my eyes I can picture you perfectly. I would give anything just to hold you in my arms one more time. When I thought you had been infected with the virus, I almost died myself. I want you to know that going to jail was just a little price to pay for saving your life. I'd do it again if I had to. I'd do anything just to make sure that you're alive and happy. Sweetheart the reason I'm writing is that I want to ask you not to give up on me. Please, the time goes by faster knowing that once I get out I will be able to hold you again. _

_I love you, _

_Tony_

He had never been a man to show much emotion, but now he couldn't help himself. Replaying the letter in his mind, he drifted off into the nightmarish sleep that awaited him.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright here is the second chapter, it's kind of turning into side along with Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, but o well tell me what you think

…

…

…

Jail changed people. Sometimes for the better, most times for the worst. Jail had changed him.

He looked up at the dull grey ceiling for what felt like the millionth time, and leaning back onto the bristly cot, he let his thoughts wash over him. Thoughts about her.

The only thing he thought about when he was here. The only thing that seemed to whisk him away from the horror that awaited him every time he awoke. Memories of her came swimming in and out of his head.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting alone at the bar, her curls tucked neatly behind her ears, here feet swinging in motion to the music. "Alone?" he had wondered why. Surely no one that beautiful should be sitting alone at a bar on Christmas Eve. He walked over to her and sat down on the stool beside her. He saw her cheeks turn pink, into a blush. She smiled at him, and that was it. He instantly fell in love. He had introduced himself and as soon as he shook her hand, he felt his whole body tingle. Oh yes, he had been in love from the moment he saw her.

He had only really cried three times in his life. Once when his father died, once when he first saw Michelle on their wedding day, once when he thought he had lost her to the virus. Now he didn't care. Tears oozed out the sides of his eyes, wetting the stiff pillow supporting his head.

…

…

…

He jerked awake, his back stiff and his eyes baggy. That day he requested paper and a pencil. The guard he had asked inquired him on the reason, he had only replied "To write letters to my wife." The burly guard obliged, knowing the reason he was in for, turned and walked out, shaking his head sadly. A moment later the guard returned with the materials. "I'm sorry." Were the only things he said before leaving.

He sat down wondering where to start. Knowing that he would never send these, and that no one would ever see, he recorded the letter he had formed in his mind the previous night. Than tearing of another sheet he began the next one.

_Sweetheart-_

_Did I ever tell you that I loved you since the moment I met you? Because I did. Every day I'd look at you in your station at work, wondering if I could ever have you. The day we kissed for the first time was the best day of my life. I remember it perfectly, the way you looked, the way it felt when I hugged you, the way your lips felt against mine. More than anything I want to see your face, touch your cheeks, feel your lips on mine. I ask you again not to give up on me._

_I love you,_

_Tony_

Jail had changed him. It had made him realize that you don't know what you have until it's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Love: (lũv)_ n_. Deep affection and warm feeling towards another.

One word, four letters, and a single meaning. It was strange how one word could change someone's life forever. Strange how one simple word could be so complex. Strange how that when one uttered the three letter phrase "I Love You", they would be willing to do any task, no matter what the price was.

It had been three months since he had seen her face, or more correctly anyone of his family or coworkers faces, and jail was slowly taking a toll on his features. His eyes that had once been full of laughter, had shriveled up into two deep wells of despair. His mouth had curved into what seemed an everlasting frown, and not a glimmer of hope appeared on his face. He had given up almost entirely. There wasn't any point to life any more. What reason would she have to wait for him? None. He had hoped but it seemed that his wishes wouldn't come true. The tears that he had cried before had turned to dust, and he had tried to forget her. But there was still a tiny problem that gnawed at his mind. It was that annoying four letter word, the word that was the reason he was here in the first place, and though try as hard as he could, those three years when they were together were still plastered in his mind.

He sat down on the icy cement ground of his cell and was yet again absorbed with memories. He had found out that other people's faces would fade out of his mind, until soon they were just vaguely distinctive blurs with broken voices to go along with. He only remembered her. Every day the pain got a little worse, until sometimes he felt like dying himself. Then he'd remember her soothing voice, her smile, and the way her curls spilled over her forehead when she laughed. Bits and pieces of other memories whirled in around in his head as he drew his legs up to his chest to try and stay warm.

…

…

Michelle could never cook. Never ever. Many hours were spent swearing at a dish of burnt food in the kitchen trying to figure out what went wrong. He remembered the first time Michelle had met his whole family. She had insisted upon cooking a very fancy meal for his parents and siblings, but all that had ended up happening was a small fire and extremely burnt chicken casserole. He had laughed so hard over the whole situation, he swore his lungs had never been working properly since.

A sound suddenly filled the depressing air of the cramped cell. It was a sound that he hadn't heard in ages, it was the sound that he heard most when he was around her. He realized that the sound of laughter was coming from his own mouth. It sounded strange to his ears, like the sound of rain after a drought. He stood up. Little did he know that the old glint in his eyes had returned for half a second. Walking over to his cot, he gingerly withdrew two pieces of paper from inside his pillow case. Ragged they were, having endured many days of being folded and opened up again. He sighed, reached for his crumbling pencil, and began the next letter.

_Dear Sweetheart,_

_Time passes more slowly each day. In this place an emptiness surrounds you and the only thing that you can do to survive is be whisked away into your own thoughts. I never treated exactly the way you should have been. I should of told you every day since the moment I met you that I loved you. Forgive me please? You are the only reason I've lasted this long. I know that there are a lot of reasons not to wait for me, I know I say this in ever letter, but if I lost you I don't think I could live with myself. _

_I love you,_

_Tony_

Clutching two ragged pieces of paper, and one slightly new one, He drifted off into the sleep that would soon ensnare him, his last thought aimed at Michelle, curls flying, grinning broadly, laughing at the world.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a box that sat in their closet gathering dust for many years. Michelle had asked Tony what was in it, but every time she did he'd simply say, "A couple has to have secrets, it makes life interesting." Michelle didn't find that answer very amusing but she didn't push it and soon forgot about the box and its contents.

…

…

…

…

…

…

_6 years later…_

Rain battered down on the roof of their small house. Thunder clattered, making the windows rattle. Lightening lit up the night, illuminating the stormy sky. Michelle rolled over, trying not to wake the snoring outline of her husband. She left the security of her blankets and walked over to the window, and watched the rain ricochet of the ground. Michelle had loved always loved storms, but there was something about this one that made her uneasy. She walked over to her closet, groping in the dark for a sweater. Her hands, instead, met a small cardboard box. Pulling the box down from the shelf, she set it down on the dresser. Recognition washed over her. It was the box that she had always wondered about. Glancing over at Tony to make sure he was fully asleep, she swooped the box into her arms and carried it into the kitchen.

Michelle sat it down on the table and wondered if she really should. One peak wouldn't hurt anything she thought. Slipping down into a chair, she gingerly removed the lid.

Three tattered and yellowing pieces of paper met her eyes. "What's this?" she thought, carefully unfolding one of them. Two words met her eyes. _"Dear Sweetheart,"_ Michelle felt her eyes going blurry as she read the scrabbled writing. "_Did I ever tell you that I loved you since the moment I met you? Because I did."_ The tears fell lightly, wetting the letter._ "The day we kissed for the first time was the best day of my life."_ Michelle remembered that day clearly. Tears had continued, dripping into her mouth, salty and corrosive and sweet._ "More than anything I want to see your face, touch your cheeks, feel your lips on mine. I ask you again not to give up on me." _Her cheeks were felt sticky as she sobbed. "_I love you, Tony" _She folded the paper up lightly, and unfolded the other two as if they were her most prized possessions.

…

…

…

…

Michelle shuffled slowly back into the doorway of their bedroom. There he was, a look of peace of his face, oblivious to the pounding rain outside. She slipped gently back into the covers and carefully wrapped his arm around her. She nestled into him, and shut her still watery eyes.


End file.
